“That sounds good,” I say, wiping the tears from under my eyes and laughing at the pile of spent tissues that has accumulated on the floor beside our pietà.

Kiera conjures a fresh box from somewhere. She rubs my arm and says, “Okay, go get changed. You look far too cute for lazing. We don’t have work, so nothing to worry about.”

I completely forgot I had a job, so this is a good reminder and good news.

I take off the remains of my makeup, giving a sorry laugh at it streaking down my puffy cheeks, and put my hair in an efficient, comfy ponytail. When I go into the bedroom, I see Kiera has set out an outfit. It warms my gaping heart as I put on my favorite sweatpants, a cashmere T-shirt, and Cillian’s Avalon Rugby Club sweatshirt. I feel a little lovesick and lame putting it on, but choose not to care.

I curl up on the couch while Kiera fusses around tidying the place up, putting on the Christmas lights.

I open the phone and go to the texts with Aimee—the last exchange being the file she’d sent, which I had thumbs-upped. I type out a few different things. I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t hate me. Please come back. But I delete them all.

“All right,” says Kiera with a clap, once everything is done. “Need anything else? Food is on the way.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I say. Then I get an idea. “Actually, let’s light one of those candles.”

She gives me a look of exaggerated shock. “One of the candles?”

I shrug. “What am I waiting for, you know? You only live once.”

I give a puffy sniff and then we both laugh.

“Jesus Christ, and I thought the Irish had gallows humor!” She is truly laughing now, which is contagious, and suddenly neither of us can catch our breath.

When I can finally say, “Oh my God, that’s awful,” I get up and go retrieve one of the candles, finding a box of matches from the drawer above the cabinet to light it. It smells amazing.

“It must feel weird, me having this reaction. Getting so incredibly upset,” I say. “I mean, it’s not real to you. And she’s clearly alive. Here.”

“I feel sad for you both,” she says. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on for you, I really don’t. But it doesn’t matter. There’s no question that everything you’re feeling is real.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“Pretty glad I’m not Aimee, though. I’d be having an existential crisis if I were her. I mean, God.”

I exhale loudly and say, “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of. What if the universe collapses?”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that, you narcissist. Let’s watch your movie, shall we?”